


The Blood of Vanessa Fisk

by map_yeswhatamIdoinghere



Category: MCU, Marvel, daredevil - Fandom
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:50:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/map_yeswhatamIdoinghere/pseuds/map_yeswhatamIdoinghere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>" Wilson tells Vanessa about his past in the Shadows in the Glass, reminding Vanessa of her own past."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blood of Vanessa Fisk

Wesley tells me that I am needed. Mister Fisk is suffering. Wilson. The need to help him surprises me. It feels new.

Wesley leads me to Wilson. His apartment stands on the top of the city. Anywhere you look there is a view of tall buildings, lights, distant lives. I take in the room where Wilson has chosen to hide from the world. The blue, the grey, the meticulous manner in which every item has been placed. In the middle of all of this is a broken table and a shattered man. He is the shadow cast over this city. My shadow. It is rare for me nowadays to give in to this. To not say no. It was my choice to come here. I feel like this is where my life has led me. After all the lies I have been told and the lives that have been taken in my name - life brought me here. I have not been given a choice before, not like this. I don’t care for power, but power has always searched for me. And with it destruction has followed. Power is drawn to my beauty, which comes from the grace of my movements, the low seductive tone of my voice, the words I carefully choose. I am an artist of my own allure, but even that wasn’t a choice I made. Art was where I escaped to, art has defined me and it was art that led me into the here and now. I let my hand float on the texture of the wall as I walk up to Wesley who is unsure of his decision of inviting me. 

His boss looks at me, a giant in fear of losing control. Of hurting me. Of abandonment. I let the warmth I feel reflect in my eyes and turn my attention to Wesley “We’ll be alright. Thank you.” I nod my head with a confident smile. Wesley leaves us.

Now it’s just me and him. I walk up to him slowly. “I like your place, I’m not sure about the table.” I keep my tone light. “Looks like you aren’t either.” It’s a joke. A bad one. But a calculated one.

“Please go.” Wilson says to me. I have no intention of leaving, but if I was given a choice, he has the same right. “If that’s what you really want.” I tell him. His breath hitches, he watches me for a moment until he turns his eyes away. His brief look assures me. He can never really tell me to leave, unless I wanted to. He knows I don’t want to. He will never push me away. He is incapable of doing so because of the promise he made. A promise I believe he will always keep.

I walk up to him. “He is worried about you. Your friend.”  
“He shouldn’t be.” He replies, looking away. Embarrassed.

I walk into his line of sight, making it impossible for him to ignore my words; to think that I would leave him here. “You made a promise to always be honest with me.” I take a step closer to emphasise the uprightness of my words. “What is it?”

His eyes wonder from my face to the floor and back again. Finally he says “I’m afraid.” I feel tenderness when I see his insecurity. “Of what?” I ask him. “For the way you’d look at me if you knew.” he replies with a shaky voice and my heart breaks for him. I do not show him the heartbreak, instead I take a step back, face him with the certainty that I am here to stay. “Tell me.” I say to him. Knowing he can’t refuse me.

I don’t know what I expected to hear. But it wasn’t this. A story of a scared little boy smeared with blood, the one he was then and the one his is now. As I listen, I cannot but help to think how similar we are. How our stories are parallels. Because I once stood in a city full of flames. Not this city. A different one. Far away. Hell - just like this one. But there was no character in it. A memory of blood fills my mind. A tear escapes from the corner of my eye as he finishes his story. I tell him it wasn’t his fault. He was just a boy protecting his mother. And when he asks me if he is a monster, I fall for him. Because he is not. Neither am I. We’re human beings in a world filled with men and women in masks, people who want to survive, doing the best they can in a world filled with blood. With the colour of red. We’re all the same. We are the rage. The anger. The love. The heart. And the blood.

I lean into him as he tells me that there are people who want to drag his name through the streets. Who want to destroy him. I close my eyes. I cannot allow it. I’ll stand with him on the front lines. We’ll rebuild this city, renew it. Maybe we’ll corrupt it even more. Maybe we’ll help the poor as well as the rich. We’ll make alliances with the honest and the corrupted. Be the anti-heroes. Maybe we’ll do the same in my city. Sokovia. And when the lines blur, and they always will. When the red becomes a myriad of different shades, we’ll leave this place and go into the storm. Into the white paper. Where no one will find us. We’ll go together. Because the sky will open up again, the Avengers will avenge, the man in the mask will bleed. And so will we. The time has come. The beginning. I look at Wilson. Who is my life now as much as I am his.

I wrap my hand tighter around his hand as I look at him “And are you going to let them?”

“No.”

And we step out of the shadows. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a feeling they will explore Vanessa's and Karen's backstories in Daredevil - series 2. I'm hoping Vanessa's will be multilayered and intriguing. They didn't really explore it in the comics either. I just thought it would be interesting if in the MCU she would be from Sokovia. But maybe she could be from Israel... I don't know. I will tell you this - I've never been this intrigued by a character that I would write fanfiction. Never. I've always loved reading fanfiction, and have respect for people who spend so much time on it. You guys all rock.


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